Of Baseball Bats and Nazi Hats
by Eternal-Explosionist
Summary: Donny Donowitz, a Boston boy with a temper and a baseball bat. Diana Johnson, a Boston girl with smarts and attitude. Best friends, loved ones. Then the war came along and ripped them apart. As an American spy/Nazi, of course she would meet the Bear Jew.
1. Chapter 1: Pawns

_**Of Baseball Bats and Nazi Hats**_

_Donny Donowitz, a Boston boy with a baseball bat and a temper. Diana Johnson, a Boston girl with smarts and attitude. Best friends, loved ones. Until the war came along and ripped them apart. As an American spy/Nazi, of course she would meet the Bear Jew._

**Chapter One- Pawns**

_Boston, Massachusetts 1936_

"I don't know, Di. I'm not much of a baseball player," whined a sixteen year old Donny Donowitz. He brought his arms up, fingers clasping behind his neck as he watched his girl that was his friend, dig through a container of sport equipment. It was the middle of summer, the Boston heat seeping through his white tanktop with ease. "Maybe football. Or soccer. Better yet, no sports."

"Oh please, you don't even know yet," teased Diana Johnson. She pulled out a wooden bat and a small bag filled with white baseballs. Her wavy brown hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail, tucked under her bright red baseball cap and she smirked as she tossed the boy the bag, which he caught with a slight fumble. She moved her weight onto her left leg, hand on her hip while the other balanced the bat on her shoulder. She was dressed in cut off jean shorts with a loose white tee shirt tucked into the hem. Very unladylike, but Donny didn't care. Diana would change back to her sundress when her grandmother would see her.

"Plus," she added. "I know you have absolutely no foot coordination whatsoever, and that you would hate wearing the layers of a football uniform. And yes, you need to do a sport or else your mother's signing you up for dance classes. So, baseball wins." Donny smirked at the know-it-all girl, humored with her information. She was right. His foot coordination wasn't so great and he hated to wear unneccesary layers of clothing. Not to mention that dance classes were completely out of the running, no way in hell was he going to prance around in tights. Oh well, she was usually right anyway.

"Fine, fine. You win. We'll try _baseball_," he griped, using a fake whining tone. She beamed up at him, butterflies exploding in his stomach. She took his hand in hers and started to walk down the sidewalk with a light skip.

"Great! Let's get to work!"

The baseball field was deserted, most likely due to the fact that it was too hot to play that day, or there were just no games scheduled. The wind blew softly, barely scattering the diamond's dust across the white plates. Diana jogged up to the pitcher's mound and pulled out a white baseball, a sneaky gleam in her eye.

"Batter up, Donowitz!" she called.

"This'll be a piece of cake, Johnson!" he called back. He half lifted the bat and readied himself for an easy pitch. Really, how hard could a girl like Di throw anyway?

The ball whizzed by him before he could register and his swing was delayed. The metal fence behind him rang out as the ball rolled back to his feet. He picked it up and looked from the sphere to the pitcher, who was grinning in victory.

"Strike one!" He tossed the ball back.

"I was just off guard! That one doesn't count!" She stuck out her tongue.

"Better be on guard for this one! No mercy in baseball!" coached Diana. This time, he set his feet and kept his eye on the ball, ready for anything. He didn't see the smirk as Diana pulled the cap's brim low over her eyes. She stretched, pulled her arm back and released the ball.

Donny swung hard, not wanting to miss it like he had before. The bat nearly wrapped around him as it connected with nothing, the swing too early as the ball rolled past him again. He could feel his face flame as Di exploded with laughter, doubling over.

"Strike...two!" she laughed. Donny dropped the bat to the ground and gave it a good kick.

"That's it, I'm done with this game!" he grouched. Diana stood up again and made her way over to home plate, where her friend was sulking with his arms crossed. She gave a sympathetic smile. The sun had shifted, only the light to catch on the necklace Di always wore. The gold chain and small gold cylinder trinket he won for her at a carnival when they were much younger.

"Hey, you're still learning," she consoled, gently touching his arm. "There are different pitches in baseball. Fast, slow, curve and whatever else the pitcher can think of."

He huffed. "Well that's stupid. Why can't there just be one kind of pitch?" Di raised an eyebrow and smiled.

"Now, how much fun would that be? That every pitch was just like the last? Then no one would play if the same thing was thrown over and over." She walked over to the abused bat and picked it up again, turning to face the boy that was her friend. It took a moment of persuading but she convinced his hand to unclench and to take the bat again.

"Now, this is how you're suppose to hold it," she explained softly. She moved his right hand to the proper position on the handle, his hand overlapping hers. He really hoped that she couldn't hear how hard his heart was beating due to the contact. He couldn't see her face as she gently moved his left hand to the bat as well, pushing her back against his chest as his arms completely encircled her. He had difficulty in swallowing, throat dry. Some strands of dark hair fell into his equally dark eyes but he didn't care as she continued to talk.

"...you had the right footwork, you're handling was just a bit off. So, now if the pitch is slow or fast, or whatever really, you'll be ready. Okay?" she rambled. When he didn't answer, or move for that matter, Diana turned her head to try and guage his expression.

"Hey, are you okay?" she asked. "Donny?" She used her free hand to tilt her cap all the way up so to see better. When her bright blue eyes met his dark ones, Donny Donowitz couldn't deny the hurricane of emotions he felt for his best friend. He leaned in just a fraction closer, only a little bit to test her reaction. When she didn't say anything except continue to watch him with wide eyes, he finally caved.

His lips connected with her exposed forehead, tipping her cap to the ground while his free hand cupped her face carefully, as if afraid to break her. Once his breath expired, he pulled away and looked down at her again, waiting for her reaction, afraid.

She blinked slowly before smiling up at him, a flush to her cheeks.

"You missed." His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He missed? But he meant to kiss her forehead, it was his intention...

His thoughts came to a stop when she stood on her tiptoes and touched her lips to his. A gentle brush was all, sweet and innocent and it was enough to send him into a daze. His kissed back, other hand dropping the bat and wrapping around the girl's waist instead.

She was the one he wanted to take to the diners and talk over shakes and ice cream. He wanted to take her to the movies and hold her hand in front of their friends. To talk for hours about nothing in the climbing tree in his backyard. The person he wanted to cheer for him when he played a real baseball game, maybe even hitting it out of the park like the pros. The only one he wanted to kiss like this.

The Boston heat still seared into their skin, giving their exposed limbs a pink glow that would remain for a few days. But they didn't care, they would laugh about it later. Finally, they found each other after hiding in plain sight for years. Now, if things could remain this perfect forever.

Unknown to the two teenagers, they were about to be forced into the war as pawns.

* * *

**Reviews would be appreciated, lovelies. =]**


	2. Chapter 2: Unlikely Soldier

_**Of Baseball Bats and Nazi Hats**_

_Donny Donowitz, a Boston boy with a temper and a baseball bat. Diana Johnson, a Boston girl with smarts and attitude. Best friends, loved ones. Then the war came along and ripped them apart. As an American spy/Nazi, of course she would meet the Bear Jew._

**Chapter Two- Unlikely Soldier**

_Boston, Massachusetts 1937_

"Donny!" called Diana, jogging down the sidewalk. She was dressed in a light blue sundress, hair flying behind her as she caught up with her boyfriend. Her school books were tucked under her arm and a grin on her face. Donny turned and looped his arm with her free one, grinning as well.

"Hey," he said, leaning down to steal a kiss. His friends that were nearby cat called and they both rolled their eyes at their antics. His school shirt was already untucked and unbuttoned, showing the top of his dark chest hair she always teased him about.

"Hey," she smiled. She shoved some of her long hair out of her face as she leaned against his arm. "So hey, I need to run home. Dad said something important was going on, so I'll see you at Jerry's after dinner, 'kay?"

"Oh yeah, fine with me," agreed Donny. He gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Tell the Captain I say hi."

"No problem," she laughed. "You know you're his favorite. No need to brown nose." She stole another kiss for good measure and they parted at the street's intersection. She gave a quick wave before jogging down the street toward her house. Donny's grin was interrupting by one of his pals lassoing an arm around his neck, trying to pull him into a headlock. Which failed since Donny was graciously taller than his friend.

"Earth to Donowitz!" he called loudly in his ear. "Anybody home?" The Boston boys scuffled and Donny ended up pulling the headlock on his friend.

"Yeah, he's home. Who wants to know?" he joked. His friend tried to get away but he had no such luck until Donowitz released him, ruffling his hair.

"Geez, what a grip," his friend laughed. Donny laughed in return.

"So, what's up Thom?" he asked, lacing his fingers behind his neck. Thom tried to straighten his hair as they passed a group of giggling girls, flashing them a wavering smile they seemed to not notice. Donny didn't even look twice at them. Thom bumped his arm.

"So, how long have you and Diana been an item, huh? You're still all puppy dog about her," he teased. He stole another look at the girls that were walking away. "Did you see that red head?" He whistled.

"A little over a year now," Donny answered after a moment to count up the months. Sweet, wonderful months. "Why?"

He shrugged. "I was just wondering when she would be free is all..." Donny smirked and pulled his friend into a headlock again, giving no wiggle room.

"Hey man," he said right in his ear. "Back off my girl." They both chuckled and the taller boy released him again, allowing him to step away, rubbing his neck. He gave a meek smile.

"You're pretty serious about her, man." He gave a shrug, walking ahead of him so that his smile could go unseen.

"Guess I am."

* * *

"Dad?" called Diana as she stepped into their house. She set her school bag on the kitchen table and walked to the living room where her dad was standing in front of the table that supported their radio system, listening the news intently. From where she was standing, she could vaguely hear that it was about the unraveling war that Germany had started. The war against Jews. It set her hair on end at the thought of it, her stomach churning.

"So, what was it you wanted to-"

He interrupted her. "In German."

She huffed and rolled her eyes. Her dad was something of a language buff, so of course he found it appropriate to cram as many language lessons into her head as possible. When she was younger, after school she would have lessons with her dad before she was allowed to go outside and play. Mostly German and history sessions. He would quiz her, even give out his own tests.

_"What is it you wanted to talk about? You said it was important,"_ she recited in German. He nodded in approval.

_"It is,"_ he answered_. "We're moving."_ Her face paled considerably. Moving? When she was so close to graduating? She only had another academic year left, it was too late to change schools. Not to mention leaving all of her friends, more importantly Donny. Her heart throbbed at the mere idea.

_"Moving?"_ she asked, keeping her German. _"Why would we do that? We have everything here, there's no reason to leave!" _He turned his steely eyes to hers.

_"Watch your tone, young lady,"_ he warned. She held her tongue, tears threatening to pool over_. "My job requires us to leave."_

_"And go where?"_ she whispered. He turned to look at the radio again, a solemn expression across his weary face.

_"To Germany."_ Her mouth fell open in horror, heart pounding against her rib cage.

"Germany?" she yelped, breaking into English. "It's crazy over there, no way will they let us just move over there-"

_"They will. The papers have already been made out and signed."_ He sighed. _"Back to German, Diana."_

She swallowed with difficulty before speaking again. She was having all sorts of bad vibes about this conversation, cold dread was creeping down her spine. _"But why? What business could we have over there? During war times?"_

He nodded slowly before turning to look his daughter straight in the eye. _"It is exactly why we're going. We are needed in this war."_ She became alarmed at once. He couldn't possibly mean need for the SS side, could he?

_"For America's side right? You can't possibly be thinking about joining Hitler's side, he's wrong-"_

_"Of course not!"_ he snapped. She fell silent instantly_. "Of course we're fighting for America's side!"_ He took a few breaths to steady himself before continuing.

_"My job requires us to fight for America from inside Germany. We're the perfect soldiers. With my homeland being Germany and now that you are fluent in the language, we can finally take our places on the battlefield."_

Diana and her father held each other's gaze for a long time before he broke the silence.

_"We leave early tomorrow morning. Mr. Donowitz at his barber shop already knows you're leaving. He promised not to tell his boy. You should say your goodbyes."_ Without another word, Di turned heel and ran from her house.

Since it was earlier than she and Donny had intended to meet up, it meant that he should still be home, or at least near it. She ran down the streets, passing past some kids her age and she didn't see them wave, or the concerned looks they sent her way as she ran by without saying anything.

She stumbled up the path to the Donowitz's modest home. Hardly waiting to catch her breath, she rapped on the door then leaned on her knees trying to regain her wind. With a click, the door opened, revealing Donny's little brother.

"Oh, hi Diana!" he chirped. She looked at him, immediately seeing the similarities that he and Donny shared. The thick dark hair and the very dark eyes that could stare forever. She pulled her light eyes away before she lost it completely.

"S-sorry, is Donny home?" she coughed. He must have sensed that something was off because he nodded and turned tail, running to the back of the house, calling for his brother. She stood up straight and closed her eyes as there were numerous crashes as Donny triped over the scattered items in his room. She gave a weak chuckle. She was usually telling him to at least keep the floor clear, so to save his mother some trouble.

It was only a matter of moments before Donny filled the doorway, out of breath.

"Hey, what's up Di?" he asked, concerned evident. She took a moment to look up into his face, trying to memorize every feature that she could retain. He was still dressed in his school outfit as was she. His shirt unbuttoned fully, showing the white tank beneath it and clinging to his frame. Her hand slowly reached up and touched his cheek and he leaned into it, using his hand to keep hers there. His dark eyes bored into hers, wanting to know what was wrong. Her blue eyes finally clouded and spilled over, tears racing as she stepped into him, his free arm wrapping around her.

"Diana..." he whispered. "What's wrong?" She hiccuped and hid her face in his chest.

"I don't want to be a soldier, Donny...!" she sobbed. "I just can't!"

Donny stared down at her, shocked. Diana, a soldier?

"What're you talking about?" he asked. Fear started to fill his system, numbing his senses as his girl continued to cry. She nodded and explained her father's story and plan as quickly as possible, as if she could be in trouble by simply telling him.

"No," he muttered. He held onto her all the tighter, ignoring how her nails dug into his back as she clung to him as if he was her lifeline. Afterall, she was his.

"No, they can't take you! Not you, Diana!" he cried. Angry tears rolled down his cheeks as his family watched them from the safety of the kitchen, every person sympathetic. Donny's brother tried to ask what was going on, but the parents hushed him.

"Not you...!"

* * *

**Review! Please and thank you. So, the war has started to claim it's players...**


	3. Chapter 3: Love, Di

_**Of Baseball Bats and Nazi Hats**_

_Donny Donowitz, a Boston boy with a temper and a baseball bat. Diana Johnson, a Boston girl with smarts and attitude. Best friends, loved ones. Then the war came along and ripped them apart. As an American spy/Nazi, of course she would meet the Bear Jew._

**Chapter Three- Love, Di**

_Berlin, Germany 1938_

Diana Anshelm sat at her small desk, writing another letter to her boy in Boston. It was dimly lit in her room, the living space she and her father shared was sparse for certain. She looked up from the letter so to give her eyes a break from writing in the poor lighting. She steered her eyes away from the mirror that was just to her right side, not wanting to see her reflection. Her hand reached up to touch the nonexistant necklace. It was still a ghost of a habbit to reach for it, like a touchstone. Though she didn't have it, the memory of it made her think of home, and that was all she needed. A memory.

As soon as they had arrived in Berlin, Germany, her father made sure that all of the preparations were taken to make her the perfect soldier for the German Army. Which meant cutting off her long locks of hair. She clearly recalls crying quietly to herself as the barber snipped away the tendrils of hair that she took pride in. The edges of her light brown hair now stopped above her shoulders, usually pinned back beneath her Nazi cap. Blue eyes glared at the cap that rested on her desk. She wanted nothing more than to stomp on it and return home, but her father brought her into the mission. She couldn't leave.

_Donny,_

_It's quite grey here in Germany. I don't know if maybe's it's the season or the typical weather in Europe, either way its dreary. I miss home, the sunshine and of course, you. How is your family doing? School? The barber shop? I hope you're still playing baseball, you were so good at it!_

_It's scary here. No one will cross paths with me while I'm in uniform outside of Germany. I've become a threat, a person to fear. We have drills and practices every day, I'm only allowed to visit home once a week to see my father (if he's even home that day) and write to you. I don't dare write in front of the other soldiers. Though some of them seem pleasant enough, I know they all chose to be there. And when the lectures about the Jews start, I just want to run out of there but I can't. I have to sit there like it doesn't bother me._

_I'm sorry I don't have anything happier to mention. I do hope you're doing well, I miss you terribly._

_Love,_

_Di._

That was the highlight of her week, to go home and check the mail. She understood it would take much longer than normal mail for Donny to receive the letter and then respond. Nonetheless, it gave her something to look forward to.

Gunshots rang throughout throughout the training field, Diana's eye trained on her target. _Bam_. _Bam_. _Bam_. All three hit their mark. She was stationed between two other relatively new soldier, Zoller and Butz. She hadn't spoken a word to either, nor did she really plan on it.

A hand clapped her shoulder and she jumped to attention, nearly dropping her handheld weapon. The Sargent towered over the Private and she snapped her hand to her brow in respect.

_"You're getting pretty good there, Private,"_ he complimented. She slowly lowered her hand.

_"Thank you, sir,"_ she replied. He studied her for a moment.

_"What's your name, Private?"_ he asked. She swallowed thickly.

_"Private Diana Anshelm, sir."_ He smirked before clapping her shoulder again.

_"Keep up the good work. You show promise."_ She forced a weak smile and another salute as he walked away. Even though it was a compliment from a higher up, she wanted to be sick. She turned back to face her target and swallowed the bile before wrapping her finger around the trigger.

She had to be strong. For Donny. For herself. To survive.

_Bam_. _Bam_. _Bam_.

Right on mark.

* * *

Donny Donowitz leaned against the brick wall of his father's barber shop, standing in the alley as he took a long drag from his cigerette. He reached inside his leather jacket and pulled out the latest letter from his girl. His chest throbbed with a familiar pang. Even after a year the pain had yet to fade and if he thought about it, he didn't want it to. It meant that he was still connected to her. He vaguely touched the golden necklace he kept hidden under his shirt. She gave it to him on her last day with a smile, despite the tears.

_"Just promise that you'll give it back. I rather like it." _

_"I swear."_

He read her letter a hundred times over, just like he had with the previous ones. Taking in each word, phrase, habbit that made her real. He saw the way the ink started to blot when she paused for a second too long, the print's shaky font when she wrote about something that upsetted her. Some days there were even tear stains at the edges of the paper, which only made his blood boil further.

He read the letter again, answering her questions in his head.

Yes, his family was fine, maybe a little concerned with his well-being but they keep their noses out of it. School, he hardly attends. Yes, he still works at the barber shop, saving up whatever money he could. All he had to do was scrape up enough for a plane ticket to Germany, he could figure the rest out later. Hell, he'd live under a bridge if he had to.

No, he didn't play baseball anymore. Every time he looked at the field or the stands, he thought of her. Her teaching him the rules, throwing trick pitches to throw him off, cheering him on at games and celebrating at the diner with her and the team afterward. Their first kiss. No, baseball was too sensative a spot for him.

Though he did always carry the baseball bat, it hardly left his side. Some nights when his pent up rage couldn't stay down he would walk the streets, looking for trouble. Though he would never tell Di that, he could already hear her tone if she ever found out. Berating him about his brash decisions, what if he got hurt, in trouble, blah blah blah. Sometimes he did it just so he could replay her words in his head, no matter how nagging.

He looked up at the Boston sky, heavy with clouds that promised rain. Sighing, he tucked the letter away for safe keeping.

"Yeah, it's grey here too, Di," he whispered, exhaling a puff of smoke. "It's grey here too..."

There was the jingle of the bell as the door opened. His pop stuck his head outside, knowing just where to look to find his boy.

"Come on back inside, Donny. Your break's up," he called. Though the older man knew not to show it, he was sympathetic for his son. Such heartache at such a young age, it was cruel. And Donny was refusing to move past this girl. Charming girls attended school with him, came by the shop and his boy hardly gave them the time of day. He sighed, watching him take another long drag before stomping the cigerette out with his boot.

"I'm comin'," he heard him grumble. Little did the Boston boy know, another letter was already on its way. The print would be very shaky, almost incoherant, not to mention the numerous tear stains that spotted the page.

_Donny,_

_I can't keep writing. Germany is starting to go through the mail, checking for informants and spies. Dad is telling me that this is my last letter to you before they reach our part of Germany to install the mail checking process. _

_It's getting really bad here, the things they are making us do are absolutely horrible, it really makes me want to run away or die trying. But I can't, I'm bound to this duty. It's horrible. I want this war to just end so I can finally go home to sunshine and you. I miss you like nothing I've ever missed before. I know it may sound silly, but thinking about you gets me through my days. I hope you're well and I pray that you continue to be well._

_I love you, Donny. I really do._

_Love,_

_Diana_

Once Donny received the letter, needless to say he had to read it again. Just to be certain that he was reading her words right. His heart ached as the facts sunk in painfully quick. As soon as the hurt settled, rage started to grow in its place. He could feel his adrenaline pick up while his blood started to boil. Breathing hard, he grabbed his baseball bat and stormed out of his house.

He swung the bat down against the trashcan, sending it flying down the alley. It hardly bounced once before he was on it again, driving the wooden bat home. The cheap metal bent easily under his strength and he gave a yell as he sent it airborne again.

"Fuckin' Nazis!" _Bam_. "Fuckin' Germany!" _Bam_. _Bam_. "Fuckin' war!" _Crunch_. Donowitz kicked the trashcan and preyed upon the next one, transforming it into the state just like the former. His knuckles started to bleed from holding the bat so tight and from the harsh contact with the bins. He didn't care. Hell, he couldn't give a shit about his hands even if he wanted to. His vision was blurred and he could hardly see what was in front of him. So, he raised his arms and brought the bat down in the perfect swing Di had taught him those years ago.

_Bam_. Out of the park.

His senses were so dull, he didn't hear the person come up from behind him, even when everything else echoed to the point of ringing.

"Say, what's yer problem, boy?" asked the stranger. Donny didn't even jump, he simply turned around to face him. His whole body was shaking and he refused to lessen his grip on the bat.

"The Nazis are my problem," he managed through gritted teeth. "Germany, is my problem. This whole fuckin' war, is my problem." His hand gave a twitch as he readjusted the grip on his bat.

"Why do you give a fuck anyway? You some kind of cop?" he growled, almost looking for an excuse to slam the bat into something else. The man shook his head.

"Nope. I ain't a cop," he answered simply. They studied each other for awhile before the man smirked.

"But I sure as hell have got the job for you, kid."

* * *

**Reviews please! Another update! Much to the encouraging of my roomie Julia but hey, it's why we're friends. Now Donny has a job opportunity best fitted to his anger and wicked swing.**


	4. Chapter 4: Justice

_**Of Baseball Bats and Nazi Hats**_

_Donny Donowitz, a Boston boy with a temper and a baseball bat. Diana Johnson, a Boston girl with smarts and attitude. Best friends, loved ones. Then the war came along and ripped them apart. As an American spy/Nazi, of course she would meet the Bear Jew._

**Chapter Four- Justice**

_Paris, France 1941_

At this time, the Germans have occupied France for a full year. There were teams sent out to investigate and search for hidden Jews. To capture, to kill, the lines blurred all the time. Sometimes Diana was apart of those groups and sometimes she was stationed at the immigration centers. There she would check people's papers if they were trying to leave or get into the country. While other soldiers caused a scene when they spotted a forgery, or a smuggled item, Diana simply kept her head down and whispered to the citizen the faults into the paperwork. She would advise them to have their forger clean it up, then allow them to move on. When it came down to it, she would much rather work at the station where she allowed citizens to slip to freedom.

She sighed as she walked the patrol route with Private Butz, both of them armed as usual.

_"Need a smoke, Anshelm?"_ he offered. She shook her head.

_"No thanks,"_ she declined. He shrugged and lit one for himself. She sent him a pointed look.

_"You know you shouldn't be smoking on patrol," _she chastised lightly. He gave her a "Yeah, so?" look as he inhaled a deep drag and pointedly exhaled in her face. She waved her hand to dispearse the smoke, lips pursed.

_"Aw come on, Anshelm. Like you're going to tell the __Führer on me?"_ he laughed. She laughed softly.

_"Right. I would tell and you would be sent to stand in the corner throughout dinner. Scared now?" _she teased. He barked a laugh at her joke, almost attracting the nearby Frenchmen's attention. She elbowed him sharply to shut him up. He stiffled his laughter quickly, sending a mild glare the citizen's way. He sighed loudly as they rounded the next corner.

_"I can't believe we have to help train the newcomers tomorrow,"_ he griped. She arched an eyebrow.

_"We get to help train?" _she repeated_. "When did they decide that?" _He shurgged again.

_"This morning I think. I'm pretty sure it's because the actual trainers have some sort of higher up meeting."_ She could see him pout. _"Wish I could go."_ She rolled her blue eyes at his childish behavior.

_"Man up, Butz."_ She checked her watch. _"Is this patrol over yet? Next time I'm requesting patrol duty with Helga, or Wilhelm."_ Private Butz clutched his chest and staggered, as if he had just been shot.

_"Ah, Diana Anshelm. Your shot is true as ever. Straight though my heart that one went,"_ he mocked. She rolled her eyes and walked ahead of him, adjusting the strap of her gun the was slung over her shoulder. After a few steps, she stopped and turned to face her comrade. She posed her hand like a gun and pointed it directly at his chest, closing one eye as if to take aim. He stood very still and held his arms open, as if daring her.

_"Bang."_ She pulled her hand back as if the recoil had taken place. If it was only that easy to kill the Nazis. Her back was to him again as she continued to walk. If only it was that simple. She would do it in a heartbeat if given the chance.

Some days at training, the higher up officers would stand off to the sides, watching their angles and marks. If she was stationed at one of the ends, all she would really have to do would be to turn her barrel just to the side a few inches hardly, and pull the trigger. Then, bam. One Nazi dead.

Instead, her bullet would find the target as it was suppose to.

* * *

Diana sighed as she flopped onto her bottom bunk, finally kicking off her boots. She rolled onto her stomach and stole at glance at the bunks next to her, making sure the were empty or at least sleeping. When the coast was clear, she reached into her jacket and pulled a folded photo out to view in the dimming candle light. It was faded with the years but she loved it so much. It should properly be in a frame, but a frame was a little odd to hide in her jacket, the photograph itself was much more flexible.

She smoothed it out ontop of her pillow and she cradled her face in her hands, propped up on her elbows. It was of herself and Donny Donowitz. It was Donny's first official baseball game and he had scored the winning run. Clear out of the park. Just like the pros.

_"I bet that went all the way to Lansdowne street!" she told him. She ran onto the field like the other fans and family did, hugging their respectable players. Donny's hand circled her waist and lifted her clean off her feet as they spun. The photographer had snapped their photo without them realizing it. Her feet were still off the ground, her hands touching his cheeks while they were nose to nose, grinning with their victory._

_"I knew you'd be good at baseball," she teased. "Told you so." He stole a kiss, catching her slightly off guard as he finally lowered her onto her own feet. _

_"And since when did I ever doubt you?" he laughed. "You'd give me hell if I did." Her mouth formed a light pout as she mockingly punched his bicep. Her facade didn't last long as she burst into cheering and laughing with the rest of the team._

A bed nearby creaked and Diana quickly stuffed the picture away before anyone could get a good look, if they were looking that is. Quickly, she snuffed out her light and pulled the thin covers up to her chin, pretending to be the perfect sleeping soldier.

Once the footsteps faded, she slowly pulled a letter from her jacket. Not to read it, she already had it memorized, just to take it in. Finally, it seemed as if some justice was coming. In the form of a small, undercover band of Americans, but she didn't care. She would help them as much as she could. Grinning, she tucked it away again, laying her head on her pillow, eagerly awaiting their arrival like a child waits for Christmas.

* * *

"Atten-hut!" called out the tallest soldier. The seven men in the single filed line snapped to their fullest height, eyes straight ahead. Donny smirked as Lieutenant Aldo Raine started to pace before the new recruits. He took a deep breath and lifted his chin slightly, showing the rope burn around his neck.

"My name is Lt. Aldo Raine, and I'm puttin' together a special team. And I need me eight soldiers. Eight—Jewish—American—soldiers," he stated. His Tennesse accent was obvious but it took nothing away from his authority. If anything, it showed his disregard for formalities and rules by the sound of his tone.

The soldiers stood at attention, staring ahead and awaiting orders. Good. He dove into the next part of the plan.

"Now y'all might of heard rumors about the armada happening soon. Well, we'll be leavin' a little earlier. We're gonna be dropped into France, dressed as civilians. And once we're in enemy territory, as a bushwackin', guerrilla army, we're gonna be doin' one thing, and one thing only—Killin' Nazis. The members of the National Socialist Party have conquered Europe through murder, torture, intimidation, and terror. And that's exactly what we're gonna do to them. Now I don't know 'bout y'all? But I sure as hell didn't come down from the goddamn Smoky Mountains, cross five thousand miles of water, fight my way through half Sicily, and then jump out of a fuckin' air-o-plane to teach the Nazis lessons in humanity. Nazi ain't got no humanity. They're the foot soldiers of a Jew-hatin', mass-murderin' maniac, and they need to be destroyed. That's why any and every son-of-a-bitch we find wearin' a Nazi uniform, they're gonna die."

The men still said nothing, all ears to the Lieutenant. Not a single one of them even flinched. Aldo took this as silent approval and continued with his speech. In fact, Donowitz started to smirk.

"We will be cruel to the Germans, and through our cruelty, they will know who we are. They will find the evidence of our cruelty in the disemboweled, dismembered, and disfigured bodies of their brothers we leave behind us. And the Germans will not be able to help themselves from imagining the cruelty their brothers endured at our hands, and our bootheels, and the edge of our knives. And the Germans will be sickened by us. And the Germans will talk about us. And the Germans will fear us. And when the Germans close their eyes at night and their subconscious tortures them for the evil they've done, it will be thoughts of us that it tortures them with."

He stopped pacing and stared them dead in the eye, searching for any wavering expressions. They held strong.

"Sound good?"

They didn't even hesitate, in fact Donny was practically grinning.

"Yes, sir!" He nodded and resumed his pacing.

"That's what I like to hear," he said. "But I got a word of warning to all would-be warriors. When you join my command, you take on debit. A debit you owe me, personally. Every man under my command owes me one hundred Nazi scalps. And I want my scalps. And all y'all will git me one hundred Nazi scalps, taken from the heads of one hundred dead Nazis . . .or you will die trying."

"Yes, sir!"

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**Reviews would be much loved, my readers! I'm having so much fun with this story, can't wait to keep it rolling!**


	5. Chapter 5: Soldier's Gossip

_**Of Baseball Bats and Nazi Hats**_

_Donny Donowitz, a Boston boy with a temper and a baseball bat. Diana Johnson, a Boston girl with smarts and attitude. Best friends, loved ones. Then the war came along and ripped them apart. As an American spy/Nazi, of course she would meet the Bear Jew._

**Chapter Five- Soldier's Gossip**

_France 1943_

Word of the American-Jew resistance spread quickly throughout the German ranks. Diana could hear the men soldiers whispering about over the campfire or during meals like old women. They worried about going out on the next patrol alone, afraid that they would be next. The American smirked as she turned her back on them, refocusing on cleaning her rifle or tending to some other chore to smother the smile that would appear. What baffled them the most was how the Jews knew where they would be next. That freaked them out more than anything. Everyone knew that nothing bothered the Nazis more than being surprised. The Nazi party was not one for surprises. It meant that they had no control. And they can't stand not being in charge. Diana loved the inner turmoil it caused, their fear sweet on her tongue.

The Basterds. What a fitting title.

They killed Nazis without a second thought. Scalped them, took their identification papers, removed their socks and boots, took their valueables and left them wherever they were. The most frightening creature the Basterds's had personified was the Bear Jew. A vengeful spirit created to kill soldiers, a Golem according to the most superstitious Nazis. The creature would beat the soldiers to death with some kind of club, smashing their heads in. Then the survivors of the Basterds's ambush were marked with a Swastika carved into their forehead.

And honestly, it was a scary vision and it even put Diana on edge some days, just in case they didn't recognize her, their informant and she was dealt the same fate. Afterall, they weren't into taking prisoners.

She took a deep breath as she loaded the chamber of her hand held with a single bullet, walking back to the practice area. The only place she could shoot freely, each target an imaginary Nazi, a Private, Colonel, Sargent, or Gestapo Major. Her arm came up and aligned with the mark. She inhaled slowly so to calm out her previously jittery nerves, the idea of the recoil hardly bothering her anymore. It used to be a sharp sting when she first started, now it was a familiar muscle reaction. A quiet laugh escaped her. She remembered when she was afraid to touch a gun, let alone carry it at all times and fire it. Now, she never wanted it to leave her side.

Her time was coming soon. Then she would play a piece in the revolution.

_Bam_.

* * *

Out in the woods a series small tents were set up around a smothered campfire. It was pitch black, mostly like late night or very early morning. In one tent were two of the infamous Basterds, Omar Ulmer and Donny Donowitz. The night was fine, sleeping like usual, no attack plans or plans of being attacked. Of course, someone was on guard anyway just in case of a random passerby or patrol team.

The only problem was, Omar couldn't sleep. The reaon he couldn't sleep was because his tent mate was mumbling in his sleep. Again. He huffed and tried to use the small makeshift pillow to muffle the voice from his ears, but even that couldn't block it out completely. He sighed loudly and rolled onto his back, giving his fellow rebel a sleep deprived glare. Sure, Donowitz could sleep like a hibernating bear in the middle of winter, sure no problem. He couldn't just snore like any other person, no, Omar had to be stuck with the chatty one.

He nudged his foot with his boot.

"Hey, Donny, you're talking again," he whispered. The Bear Jew didn't reply as he remained on his side, showing Omar his back.

"Just leave it alone..." he grumbled. Omar huffed and rolled his eyes, giving another kick with a bit more force.

"Seriously, it's late and you won't shut up," he told him. Donny moved so that his arm was tucked beneath his head.

"Di, I already said that I did all of my homework..." His tone was almost whining. Omar groaned aloud, pillow over his own face. Finally, he resorted to tapping his shoulder which jolted an immediate reaction. Donny sat up quickly, bat in hand, eyes trained on the tent flap, ready for attack.

"Finally!" celebrated Omar. He turned onto his side, prepared to fall back asleep. Donny looked around, dazed and disoriented.

"What the fuck's goin' on, Omar? We bein' attacked?" he asked, trying to rub his eyes clear.

"No," he said into his pillow. "You just wouldn't shut up." Groaning loudly, he flopped back down, giving Omar a kick for good measure.

"I wasn't even dreamin', how could I be talkin'?"

"Trust me. You were." He covered his face with his hands, trying to force himself back to that mindless slumber. It was perfect, dark, and he didn't have to think a single thought. About the war, the next ambush, anything or anyone.

After a few moments of silence, Omar spoke up, keeping his back to Donny. Just in case the topic was touchy.

"So...who, or what, is Di?" The larger man rolled onto his side as well, the two back to back.

"Who wants to know?" he grumbled. Omar sighed, giving up. Touchy subject it was.

"Just wondering was all. Don't have to answer. You just say it a lot," he explained. Donny mentally berated himself. He had no idea he was still sleep talking about her. Her, the long lost Diana Johnson.

He held his tongue for awhile, debating whether or not to convey the delicate information. He screwed his eyes closed, tucking his arm under his head again.

"Di...stands for Diana. I used to call her that all the time. Used to piss her off when we were younger," he breathed a laugh at the memory.

_A much younger Diana chased Donny across the playground. He had just pulled on her ponytail and at the time, he had no idea that she would drop whatever she and the other girls were playing in order to give him what he deserved. She chased him around the playground numerous times, gaining on him all the while._

_"Dumb Di, dumb Di!" he called, encouraging her. Her cheeks were flushed from running and anger. He looked back, to see if she was still chasing him. When he saw nothing, he slowed down to a walk so to catch his breath. Good, she gave up. She almost had him too, but obviously he was too quick for a girl anyway._

_"Ha! That'll show her!" he grinned, hands stuffed into his pockets. Just as he was about to head over to the other boys he was previously with, he noticed that they were giving him a strange look. He waved and grinned, to show his victory._

_"Couldn't even catch me-" He was sharply cut off when he felt another body tackle him to the ground._

_"Take it back!" demanded Diana. He stared wide eyed up at her. Where did she come from? Realization struck him and his previous pig headedness returned. She hid and then jumped out and surprised him. Cheater._

_"Hey, you cheated dumb Di!" he scolded. Now, Donny was never good at assesing the situation and predicting the future. So when her eyes got all glassy from tears, he didn't see her little hand curl into a fist and clock him right in the eye._

_His father, on the other hand, found the story absolutely hilairious that evening at dinner._

"So, she's your friend?" supplied Omar. Donny snorted. If it was only that simple.

"She was my girlfriend." His free hand reached out and gripped the bat tightly. "Then the Nazis took her away."

Omar didn't dare steal a look at the most violent Basterd, he simply closed his eyes.

"Sorry."

Dark eyes stared at the wooden baseball bat as he twisted it to a certain angle. Though it was pitch black, he knew exactly where he wrote her name on his choice weapon. A bit darker than the other signatures of Jewish loved ones in Europe, but there all the same.

"Yeah. Me too."

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**Reviews would be lovely as usual, my readers!**


	6. Chapter 6: Ambush!

_**Of Baseball Bats and Nazi Hats**_

_Donny Donowitz, a Boston boy with a temper and a baseball bat. Diana Johnson, a Boston girl with smarts and attitude. Best friends, loved ones. Then the war came along and ripped them apart. As an American spy/Nazi, of course she would meet the Bear Jew._

**Chapter Six- Ambush!**

_France 1943_

Diana marched with her outfit, Nazi cap pulled low over her eyes, like how she used to wear her baseball caps before she pulled a sly pitch the batter's way. They were given the option to wear their helmets or their caps, it was up to them. Everyone tended to wear the helmets just in case they were jumped, but Diana kept her cap like she always did. They were traveling so to meet up with the squad ahead in the orchard sniper spot. In order to reach the location, they would have to cut through a large ditch. It was no concern, they had traveled the route numerous times before and they never encountered any kind of trouble. Though the American-German knew that there was going to be trouble that day.

_"Why so tense?"_ teased Private Butz in hushed tone. Sergeant Werner did not tolerate speaking while they were on duty. It distracted them, he said a handful of times. As soldiers of Hitler, they could not afford distractions or mistakes because one would always lead to the other. Diana shushed him, looking ahead to make sure that Werner wasn't looking their way.

_"Ever notice that we're walking through the perfect death trap?"_ she whispered back, making sure her face was shadowed by her hat. He looked around, checking the heights of the ditch's wall, the possible sniper shots and hiding the nearby trees provided.

_"Wow,"_ he muttered. _"Never really looked before."_

_"Sorry if I'm a bit paranoid,"_ she quietly snapped. That silenced him real fast.

The squadren continued for a small distance more, and then their perfectly timed marching was interrupted by a series of gun shots. Some men dropped instantly along with the two other women in their division. The rest aimed their firearms and shot back at the shadowed figures at the rim of the ditch. Diana reacted quickly, tackling Private Butz to the ground, rolling behind one of the larger rock formations. He reached quickly for his ammunition but his face paled drastically when his hand clasped around nothing. His bag must've fallen when the girl pulled him to the ground.

Diana hardly paid him a second thought as she brought her rifle over the top of the rock, appearing as if she was fighting back against the Basterds. Instead, her bullets were finding their way into her comrades's back, picking them off from behind like they were nothing more than her normal targets at the training range. She ducked down as the Basterds took down the remaining standing Nazis in a final wave.

"On your feet! The both of ya!" commanded one Basterd, coming down to their level, rifle barrel pointed right at them. Butz was quick to hold up his hands in surrender and Diana rolled her eyes as she lifted her hands also, though more slowly then her partner. They got their feet and the Jewish American repeatedly shoved the rifle into their backs so to make them walk faster, which Butz did without another thought and Diana simply sighed.

The Basterds were stationed in a wide circle on the ground level and then a more spread out team lined the rim of the ditch, ready for a sniper shot if they made they wrong move. While they stood guard, the others scalped the fallen Nazis. Removed their socks and shoes, and searched their person for valueables. And they all were dressed in civillian clothes with the exception of a few German uniforms, which was mostly how they avoided capture by blending into their surroundings. Just like the rumors stated. The Basterd kicked them in the back of the knees, making them drop.

"On your knees and hands where we can see 'em!" Butz looked a little confused at the accented English, but caught the gist enough as he copied Diana and stayed on his knees, hands on the top of his head. Blue eyes looked around, seeing another soldier on his knees next to her (his name escaped her for the moment, but she was certain that he was new). Then she saw that Sergeant Werner was still alive, cool and collected as he should be. That was more than she could say for the men on either side of her, shaking and trembling like leaves in fall.

Another Basterd came forward, setting down his rifle and removing his bag as he took a seat indian style on the ground.

"Hey, Hirschberg, send that kraut sarge over." Obviously, this man was the leader if he was giving orders. Her heart jumped at recognition and she had to fight a grin that threatened to spread across her face. She tilted her head down so to hide any expression. That man was Aldo the Apache.

Hirschberg, the Basterd guarding them, gave Sergeant Werner a kick in the back.

"You! Go!"

Apparently, Werner took too long for the Basterd's taste and so Hirschberg grabbed him by the hair, lifted him to his feet and gave him a kick in the ass to get him moving. He walked up to the leader of the Basterds, stood up straight and saluted their captor.

"Sergeant Werner Rachtman," he introduced in English. The Apache gave a short salute in return.

"Lieutinant Aldo Raine. Pleased to meet cha," he said, Southern accent obvious. "You know what sit down means, Werner?" Diana had to fight another smirk.

"Yes."

"Then sit down." Her sergeant did so and Aldo leaned in to talk, her ears straining to catch the words. "How's your English, Werner? Cause if need be, we gotta couple fellas can translate." He pointed up at the nearest Basterd that had his rifle trained on the sargeant.

"Wicki there, an Austrian-Jew, got the fuck out of Munich while the gettin' was good. Became American, got drafted and came back to give y'all what for." He then pointed to another Basterd up a little higher in the ditch. A big, scary looking man and Diana's eyes rounded when she recognized his face from the paper.

"And another one over there you might be familiar with, Sergeant Hugo Stiglitz. Heard of 'em?" She could see Werner's head turn to look at him. Of course he knew who Hugo Stiglitz was, everyone in the German army knew him. He was infamous for being an enlisted man and killing thirteen Gestapo officers, mostly majors and higher-ups. Again, Diana had to fight her grin.

"Everyone in the German army has heard of Hugo Stiglitz," answered Werner. The surrounding Basterds laughed and Hugo gave a smile, as if saying he doesn't mind adding another body to his count.

"Now, Werner, I'm going to assume you know who we are?" said Aldo.

"Aldo the Apache," he gritted. Again, the surrounding Basterds laughed.

"Well, Werner, if you heard of us, you probably heard we ain't in the prisoner-takin' business. We in the killin' Nazi business. And cousin, business is boomin'," smirked Aldo. The Basterds laughed again and Di could feel her heart pound faster from adrenaline. Aldo took a map from his bag and unfolded it, placing it on the ground between the two of them.

"Now that leaves two ways we can play this out. Either kill ya or let ya go. Now whether or not you gonna leave this circle alive depends entirely on you," he warned.

"Up the road a piece, there's a orchard. 'Sides you, we know there's another kraut patrol fuckin' around here somewhere. Now if that patrol were to have any crack shots, that orchard would be a goddamn sniper's delight. Now if you ever wanna eat a sauerkraut sandwich again, you gotta show me on this map where they are, you gotta tell me how many they are, and you gotta tell me what kinda artillery they carrying with 'em." A few moments of silence passed as Werner studied the map, as if contemplating giving the information. He sat up straight again and looked the Basterd leader right in the eye.

"You can't expect me to divulage information that would put German lives in danger," he answered. Aldo took off his hat and pushed his hair back away from his face.

"Well, Werner, that's where you're wrong. Because that's exactly what I expect. I need to know about Germans hidin' in trees. And you need to tell me. And you need to tell me, right now. Now take your finger and point out on this map where this party's bein' held, how many's comin', and what they brought to play with," intructed Aldo for a second time. Werner sat up pin straight, head held high and face determined. Every inch of a supposed German war hero. Diana just wished that someone would pick him off already.

"I respectfully refuse, sir."

Something hit the wall from the inside of one of the ditch's large drains, ringing out. It hit again. The sound made her heart pound against her ribs, wanting to burst from her chest. They couldn't see the person but every breathing German soldier could assume who was producing the sound.

"You hear that?" asked Aldo. Werner doesn't say anything, only nods. Lieutinant Aldo looked back over at them and nodded at Hirschberg. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but then her world exploded with pain as Hirschberg slammed the butt of his rifle against her skull. She fell forward and stayed down. Her hat covered most of her face, allowing her only a sliver of vision. Her head throbbed with pain as the edges of her vision grew fuzzy fast. She could no longer hear the sergeant and Aldo, but she did see the Basterd leader pick up his map and move to the side.

Diana forced her gaze to stay on the scene, dispite the foggy vision. Another basterd came from the drain and he walked up to Werner, who remained on his knees. The Basterd had some kind of weapon and she guessed that he was the Bear Jew and that was his club. They stared at each other for a moment before the Bear jumped into action. Werner went down after one good strike to the head, blood flying. That didn't stop the Basterd as he pounced on him again, slamming the club into his body, more blood spraying.

Surprisingly, it only took a few minutes for the Bear Jew to be finished with the sergeant. He stomped around yelling. Even though she was fading fast, his words were loud enough to ring in her ears.

"Teddy fuckin' Wlliams knocks it out of the park! Fenway Park, on it's feet for Teddy! Fuckin' ballgame! He went yardo on that one, onto fuckin' Lansdowne street!"

Now her head was just playing tricks on her, she reasoned just before her eyes rolled up into the blackness. That sounded strangely like Donny, but it couldn't be. No way.

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**Reviews please! They would be much loved! I hope you're all enjoying this as much as I am!**


	7. Chapter 7: Boston at Heart

_**Of Baseball Bats and Nazi Hats**_

_Donny Donowitz, a Boston boy with a temper and a baseball bat. Diana Johnson, a Boston girl with smarts and attitude. Best friends, loved ones. Then the war came along and ripped them apart. As an American spy/Nazi, of course she would meet the Bear Jew._

**Chapter Seven- Boston at Heart**

_France 1943_

A pulsating pain brought her out of the darkness with a groan. Her fingers gingerly tapped her head, flinching when she found the lump. Hirschberg's handiwork. Her eyelids felt heavy, but she forced them to open anyway, looking around slowly. She was in some kind of tent and she sat up in order to pull the tent flap aside, seeing that it was dark outside. Hirschberg must have given her a good hit to the head to knock her out until nightfall.

Diana left her Nazi hat inside the tent, not wanting to wear any more than she had to, especially when properly meeting the Basterds. She stepped outside, taking slow, tentative steps out into unknown territory. A hand clamped over her shoulder and she jumped noticeably, whipping her head to the side to see Lieutinant Aldo Raine.

"About time you woke up," he said. She nodded, unsure if his tone was joking or serious. He started to walk away and motioned for her to follow him. He took a seat on one of the fallen logs by the crackling campfire and she followed suit, keeping her hands in her lap and eyes trained on the leader.

"So...you've been America's spy for about how long now?" he asked. She paused in order to think back how long she's been stationed in Germany. It really seemed like forever. Like America was a dream world.

"My dad and I moved here in '37. So, that makes it about six years now, sir," she answered. He nodded, taking a small box from the inside of his jacket.

"That's a long time. And ya never got caught once?" She shook her head.

"No, sir. My dad and I were very good about coverin' our prints." He took a pinch of whatever was in his box and sniffed it, then did the same to the other nostril.

"What about your ol' man? Where is he now?" Her hands tensed in her lap as she forced herself to keep eye contact with the lieutinant.

"My dad passed away last fall. The army kept forcin' him to take shifts and they never allowed him a chance to recover from the god-awful weather we were havin'. He was hit with a real bad fever that he couldn't fight," she answered. Aldo nodded, tucking the box away.

"Where in the states are you from?" Diana blushed. Her Boston accent had yet to fade away, even with all of her years of speaking solely German, with a side of French. She was still a Boston girl at heart.

"I'm from Boston, Massachusetts, sir," she laughed. He quirked a brow and nodded.

"Good to hear. So, what's your real name?"

"Diana Johnson, sir." He nodded again in approval. With a deep breath, he got to his feet and she followed suit.

"You've been a real help to us, Diana Johnson. Really, your intel's been great and I'm glad you're on our side," he began. Her mouth went dry. His tone sounded like he was going to break rough news to her. She held her breath.

"But when you join the Basterds, you take on a debit. A debit you owe me, personally," he said, using his thumb to point at himself. She nodded. "If you join us, you'll owe me one hundred Nazi scalps. And trust me, Johnson. I want my scalps."

She nodded. "I'll be glad to give them to you, sir." He smirked.

"Now _that's_ what I want to hear." He started to walk away, leaving her standing at the fire pit. "The boys should be coming back soon. They're good company on most days." Diana simply nodded.

She pulled on the edge of her uniform sleeve, fiddling. Tapping her foot, she finally settled for pacing the camp ground. Her heart pounded. It has been a long time since she needed to socialize, since she's been the new kid on the block. She wet her lips and swallowed thickly as footsteps neared, men's voices filling the air. Her breathing quickened as the group of soldiers circled the dying fire, chatting amoungst each other, about their victory at the ditch, who had to keep the fire burning, and who had first watch that night.

She practically tiptoed closer to them, sticking to the trees as if to hide herself if they looked her way. Her heart pounded again, nerves making her more paranoid than she should be. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself away from the tree's safety and made her way back to the fire. Using a bit more force in her step, just so they could hear her coming. And they did.

Most of them fell silent and turned around quickly, sensing a foriegn presence, a possible danger. She nodded and gave a weak, thin lipped smile.

"Hey," she greeted with a short wave. Some of them nodded back.

"So you're the informant?" asked one. She recognized him as the man who had his rifle trained on Werner. Wicki, if she recalled correctly.

"Yes."

"And now you're a Basterd too?" She nodded again, another smile forming.

"Seems like it," she answered. The lot burst out laughing and a few walked up and clapped her on the back, welcoming her. One came up and held out his hand.

"Hirschberg," he laughed. "How's your head?" She laughed and touched the back of her head tenderly.

"Got a good size knot, thanks," she told him. He laughed again, patting her back.

"Anytime."

A couple more came up to shake her hand, congradulating her and the like. When she looked back, she saw that someone was kneeling next to the fire as it was dying, trying to rekindle it. A bundle of sticks were dropped beside him and he swore,

"Who let the fire get so god damn low? You assholes, this is goin' to take forever to get started again." She recognized his large form. He was the one who killed Sergeant Werner. He was the Bear Jew. He was a large person, she could tell even though he was bent down to the balls of his feet, stooped over the fire. With large shoulders and a broad back, it was easy to see how he could smash Nazis to death. Her throat threatened to close up, but she shoved her fear aside as she walked up to him, determined to introduce herself to the Bear Jew.

"Fuckin' fire..." he grumbled as he tried to spark it back to life with a stick. Her boots crunched the grass beneath her feet as she stood next to the dark haired man. Sucking up another quick breath to calm herself, she lowered herself to his height, balancing on the balls of her feet as well.

"Need help?" she offered. He gave a vague shrug of his shoulders.

"Nah, I'll be fine." He turned to look at her and they both froze.

Blue eyes clashed with the darkest brown. The two soldiers forgot how to breathe for the moment. The chatter of the other men suddenly became muted and the world was put on pause.

She stared back at him. She was right here in front of him. She was right there and he wasn't even dreaming. His balanced dropped down to one knee as he stared at her, hard. As if trying to see through her in case it wasn't quite real and just some messed up mind trick...

"Please tell me you're Donny Donowitz," she whispered. He nodded as his hand slowly reached out to gently touch her cheek. She accepted the gesture, using her hand to steady his where it was placed, leaning into his calloused palm. He could feel her cheek lift when she grinned, eyes becoming veiled with tears, only falling the moment she blinked.

"You're the informant?" he croaked. She nodded.

"You're the Bear Jew?" He nodded. Slowly, she changed her position so that she was sitting beside him though still across, maintaining eye contact. His thumb rubbed her cheek, catching a tear, a small and delictae form of water. This time, her hand reached out and cupped the side of his face, feeling the light stubble and the smooth skin. He was weathered from the constant outdoors, and his dark eyes had light shadows beneath them, calling for slight concern.

"Have you been sleepin', Donny?" she asked quietly. "You look tired." A smile cracked his expression and a bubble of laughter escaped.

"Of course," he laughed. "You would as if I've been sleepin'. Not "Hey Donny, you ass, I can't believe you joined a rebel group," or maybe a "What the hell are you doin' here? Shouldn't you be back in Boston at the barber shop?" Good to know that some things don't change." She looked away, trying to fight a smile as she pulled her hand away so to give him a well deserved punch in the arm.

"That's for the other reasons," she explained. He laughed and took her fist, uncurling it himself and bringing it back to his cheek so that he could lean into it. Her skin was still smooth, even with her exposure as a soldier. He felt the smile spread across his face, it felt foriegn. It had been so long since he properly smiled. Never really had a reason to. Sure, he gave his crazy smile to the Nazis, but never a truly happy smile.

They didn't hear the other Basterds circle them, and they couldn't see all that well either due to the dying fire. Later, they would find out that Omar explained their status to the team, the boys finding the information quite interesting. There was a sudden burst of movement as Donny was tackled from behind, forcing the Bear Jew onto the girl, knocking her flat on her back. She was smushed under Donowitz's generous weight, squeezing some of the air from her lungs.

"God you're heavy!" she groaned, one hand against his chest, trying to shove him off while the other supported herself. They were practically nose to nose, one of his legs positioned to her side, hemming her in. Dark bored into bright and only a few seconds ticked by before Donny took her face in his hands and claimed her lips like never before. The Basterds cheered and she could feel them both smiling as they found each other again.

* * *

**Reviews would be loved as always!**


	8. Chapter 8: Not So Bullet Proof Afterall

_**Of Baseball Bats and Nazi Hats**_

_Donny Donowitz, a Boston boy with a temper and a baseball bat. Diana Johnson, a Boston girl with smarts and attitude. Best friends, loved ones. Then the war came along and ripped them apart. As an American spy/Nazi, of course she would meet the Bear Jew._

**Chapter Eight- Not So Bullet Proof Afterall**

_France 1943_

_"You are not to tell anybody anything! Your outfit was ambushed and you got away! Not one more word,"_ instructed the Führer, red in the face from anger. Private Butz nodded from his seat in the leader of Germany's office.

_"Yes, mien Führer,"_ he agreed. Hitler took a breath and looked at him again, as if just noticing that he was wearing his hat in front of him. A typically disrespectful thing, though he didn't quite mind in this case. Thoughts of the Basterds were distracting enough without having to worry about some soldier's dress code.

_"Did they mark you like the other survivors?"_ he asked after a slight pause. Butz nodded again.

_"Yes, mien Führer."_ He nodded.

_"Remove your hat and show me,"_ he commanded. Private Butz took a breath before slowly removing his hat, brushing his bangs to the side in order to show Adolf Hitler what the Basterds had done to him.

The lighting gave the scar a certain shine when the leader looked down at it. A Swastika branded the soldier's forehead, an icon that would never be erased. He inhaled deeply before stepping back, allowing him to put his hat back on.

_"There's one more thing, mien Führer,"_ started Private Butz. Hitler turned around, vaguely interested and worried.

_"And what is that?"_ Butz swallowed with difficulty before answering his Führer.

_"A member of my outfit, Diana Anshelm, was taken by the Basterds,"_ he answered. _"They didn't kill her like the rest, they simply took her back to their camp." _Hitler's brow furrowed.

_"They've never taken a soldier before,"_ he mused. _"Why would they do such a thing?" _Private Butz shrugged.

_"Maybe they're getting desprete?"_ he volunteered. _"But, mien Führer, what if we get Diana Anshelm back?"_ Hitler stilled his pacing and stared at the young soldier.

_"What do you mean, Private?" _he demanded. He swallowed with difficulty before giving his idea.

_"I-if we could get our soldier back, imagine the information we could have on the Basterds, mien Führer. I mean, she's witnessing them when their defenses are down. If we could possibly get her back, we would have solid information on the Basterds and use it to our advantage,"_ explained Butz. Hitler nodded before pacing again.

_"You are dismissed."_

_"Yes, mien Führer."_

As soon as the boot steps faded, Adolf pressed the button on his intercom.

_"Kliest."_

A voice came over the intercom in return. _"Yes, mien Führer?"_

_"Get me a search team together."_

_"Yes, mien Führer."_

* * *

It was well into the night when Diana heard a distinct rustle outside her tent. When a few moments passed and nothing else occured, she shrugged it off and fell easily back into sleep. The Basterds didn't trust her enough to allow her to be apart of the night watch but she didn't mind, more sleep for her. Sleep was a beautiful thing because she never seemed to catch enough of it, always ready to jump at the sound of an alarm or gunshot, prepared to dive into action at a moment's notice. Donny and Omar had taken the first watch which left her alone in the tent, not that she cared. She slept like the dead when given the chance. This was that chance and her body melted into slumber easily, deprived.

The flap at the back of the tent was slowly opened, not making a sound. She remained half curled on the floor of the green tent, no blanket covering her, the warmth of her German uniform enough for the girl. The unknown figures started to move toward her, pausing every other move, waiting for her to wake up or perhaps be attacked from behind. When neither occured, they shared a look and nodded, both springing into action.

The first thing Diana registered was the feeling of a cool leather gloved hand covering her mouth, instantly silencing her yelp of shock. The material was very cool, especially compared to her flushed cheeks and the shocking difference woke her with a start. A large hand wrapped around her arm pulling her swiftly to her feet and out of the tent. Another person joined, completely restricting her upper half as she began to thrash about.

_"Please, Private Anshelm! We're trying to help you!"_ whispered one of the soldiers, obviously German. She screamed beneath their hand, a snuffed out sound. Their hands gripped her through the thick, tough material of her uniform without any difficulty, making her struggling pointless. Though she could still use her legs, trying to wrench herself free as her boots dug into the ground. She could feel a particular rock hit against her foot as she sent it sailing, she didn't give it a second thought. They were a fair distance away as she fought with an unknown vigour, the small campfire fading away.

_"Maybe she's still disoriented and that's why she doesn't realize she's safe?"_ suggested one of the soldiers.

By this point they had brought her to a parked military truck, the back open and ready to swallow her whole. The campground was small in the forest background and tears sprung to her eyes, rolling down her cheeks, only bending when they made contact with the gloved hand.

_Help!_ she cried, her voice ringing throughout her head. _Help me!_

* * *

It was a cool night, not too chilly that he needed an extra jacket but just right so that he slightly enjoyed being on patrol. He sighed as he leaned against the fallen tree, his head lolling back so to relieve some of his neck's stiffness. It was Omar's turn to walk the perimeter and he took a small break in light of the role switch. He checked his watch for the millionth time, it wasn't time to wake the next two on deck to be patrol and he huffed, allowing his eyes to close for a brief moment.

The moment stretched into a few moments, followed quickly by minutes and before he knew it, he was snoring. And he would have kept snoring until Omar woke him, but in this case he was rudely woken up when a rock sailed into the side of his head. He jumped with an instinctive snatch of his gun, looking around for the person who threw it. When he saw no immediate danger, he started to relax again until he turned his head toward his tent.

A small cluster of figures were making their path away from their campsite, suspicious. What finally broke his focus was the center figure was being dragged against their will, fighting against them with all of their might. He could easily make out her figure in the dark as she was pulled further away from the fire light.

His memory clouded. He couldn't remember if he shouted for Omar and the other Basterds, but he did recall grabbing his gun and sprinting after them. It was as if someone had turned off his ability to hear as he ran after the Germans. He could vaguely feel her name rip itself free from his throat, though he couldn't quite tell how loud it was as he moved. Judging by the way his vocal chords viberated, it must have been one hell of a scream.

"_Diana_!"

They were trying to load her into a military truck, lifting her clean off her feet as she kicked. His gun came up and he took a quick aim as his finger squeezed the trigger.

_Bam_.

The soldier dropped like a bag of rocks and Diana took the chance to pull herself free, dropping down to one knee before running toward him. His hearing returned as the dull thunder of the entire Basterd force came stampeding from behind him, all armed and ready. Diana crashed into him, arms squeezing around his torso tightly as she buried her face in his jacket, completely pressed against him, hardly allowing room for air. His arm wrapped around her securely, maybe a bit on the tight side but there was no way he was letting her go. His gun arm even lowered slightly. His mistake.

The German soldier heard how the Basterd screamed her name, and how Diana flew to him. Seeing them embrace only confirmed the guesses. He gripped his hand held firearm and aimed.

_"You traitor!"_ he yelled. _"You fucking traitor!" _Her back was open, a clean shot at such a close range. It was perfect. Two birds with one stone even.

_Bam._

Diana's blue eyes shot open as her chin tilted upward, allowing her to open and release a scream of agony. Pain rippled through her, allowing her nails to dig into the Basterd's coat as she cried. The point of her pain exploded through the front of her chest and soon her scream twisted with a mirroring one from Donny. His gun fell from his hand as the force sent the two to the ground, knocking them clean off their feet. His hand dug into her uniform as her fists became tangled in his jacket. He was able to bit back a scream unlike Di, who continued to cry out, the pain lighting her body like fire. Blood soaked her uniform, dripping down her front and back. A clean shot, all the way through.

Donny arched his back as another shock of pain coarsed through him. The bullet lodged in his chest sent off pulsations of pain and his senses started to dull drastically. He could smell the copper metallic scent of blood as it poured from Diana and himself, and one of them was losing a fair amount of it. There was so much red. He hoped it was him, and not her. Definately not her. Next, the other Basterds came and pulled her away from him. Was she crying? He couldn't quite tell, the audio receptive part of his brain had been muted again. Though guessing from the way her mouth kept opening and the tears that kept falling, he would wager that she was in terrible pain, much more than himself.

The Basterds ran about, gathering supplies, trying to stanch the bleeding and Aldo kept shouting orders. Donny berated himself as his world started to fade away. He should've shot that second German before doing anything else. He should've seen the shot coming. He should've protected her. He should've...he should've...

* * *

**Review! Review, review, review, that's the three R's right? Haha, kidding! But I do always love hearing your thoughts! Have a lovely day!**


	9. Chapter 9: Sweetheart

_**Of Baseball Bats and Nazi Hats**_

_Donny Donowitz, a Boston boy with a temper and a baseball bat. Diana Johnson, a Boston girl with smarts and attitude. Best friends, loved ones. Then the war came along and ripped them apart. As an American spy/Nazi, of course she would meet the Bear Jew._

**Chapter Nine-Sweetheart**

_France 1943_

His eyelids felt like they weighed tons but finally Donny managed to keep his eyes open long enough to take in his surroundings. It was a dimly lit room, a back office by the look of it. He moved his arms back so to prop himself up but a stab of pain forced him to slump back down. The back of his head bumped against the metal table he seemed to be placed on. He gritted his teeth as he bit back a groan, fighting against the throbbing pain.

"Hey, Donny, you with us?" someone asked quietly. Slowly, he turned his head to see Omar standing beside him, pale faced and hands covered in blood. Which was a normal thing, the blood, after an attack and scalping, but this was different. His head hurt as he tried to remember how he got into such a state.

"What the hell happened?" he mumbled, hand reaching for his head. He flinched when even that hurt too much.

"You were shot last night," he explained. "Luckily, a French squad was nearby and able to help us. They were able to square you away rather quickly, the bullet wasn't too deep and they could to dig it out right away." He nodded in understanding, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to remember how the rest of the night had occured.

"There was...something else..." he muttered. Omar didn't acknowledge the comment.

"You'll probably be out for a few weeks or so, the doc told us. Lieutinant's already been working on plans without needing to use the Bear Jew-"

"I'll be fine in a week," he grunted, forcing himself to sit up.

"Don't be stupid, a week isn't enough time-"

"It'll be fine," he snapped. A series of rough flashbacks slammed into his skull, almost making him double over.

_There was so much blood. Her head tilted back as she let out a scream. The force had knocked them both off their feet. The world seemed to be vacant of sound. She was crying, nails digging into his coat. They had pulled her away. There was just so much blood..._

His hand shot out and he snatched Omar by the front of his coat, pulling him closer. His dark eyes were wide with a wild sort of glaze, startling the younger soldier.

"Where's she?" he demanded, words slurred with rush. Omar started to shake his head.

"I don't-" He was silenced by Donny giving him a good shake.

"Don't fuck with me!" he shouted. "Where's Diana!"

* * *

Machinery beeped and made low whirring sounds, slowly pulling Diana from her drug induced slumber. Her body was still under the drug's effect but she could feel the pain inching its way back to the surface. Her blue eyes squinted against the bright lights of the white room and it took her a moment to look around, even her neck was aching. By the style and all of the clunky machinery doubled with an awful sterile smell, she would wager that she was in a hospital.

The door opened smoothly and a nurse stepped into the room, holding a clipboard in her hand, taking notes from the screens.

"Where..." Her mouth was so dry, her words sounded rough. She remembered quickly to use her German as she was last in her uniform_. "Where am I?" _The nurse jumped slightly, startled.

"_Oh, dear I didn't know you were awake_!" she laughed, tucking her pen into her blonde bun. "_Sorry, dear. How are you feeling_?" It took a moment for the words to register, as the woman was French.

"_Better_," she answered. Not a total lie. The woman walked closer and poured a small glass of water ffrom a pitcher, handing it to her.

"_Thank you_." She drank the water easily, relieving her dry throat. Broken pieces of the previous night flickered across her memory. There were German soldiers trying to take her away. Gun shots, taking down a Nazi and letting her run. She remembered the feel of Donny's jacket as she plowed into him, hiding her face in his chest. Another gun shot. Then unimaginable pain tore through her chest. Fire blooming around her heart, swallowing it. She was dimly aware of herself and Donny falling, but after that, it was dark.

"_I'm sorry_," she murmurred, "_but what happened_?" The lady brushed her bangs aside as she adjusted a couple of wires that were plugged into the young soldier's arm.

"_Well, dear, I'm afraid you were shot the other night_," she explained with a sympathetic frown. "_You were quite lucky that your brother got you here so quickly_."

"_My brother_?" she repeated, eyebrows furrowing. She nodded.

"_Yes, Wilhelm. Carried you in here, shouting orders in German_." She giggled, delicately touching her pink cheek with her hand. "_In fact, it was kind of heroic_." Diana gave a shaky laugh so to smooth the moment.

"_Sure sounds like him_," she laughed uneasily. Wilhelm Wicki, the German Basterd. Of course he could pose as family. Good move. She moved her arms back to to try and sit up when a sharp pain ripped through the right side of her chest, stealing her breath and forcing her back down.

"_Careful, dear_," soothed the nurse, gently keeping her down. "_You took a full shot. You won't be moving around for awhile. You're very lucky to be alive_." Diana groaned and her head flopped back onto the pillow. The lady laughed lightly.

"_I'll be back to check on you in a little while. Call if you need anything_," offered the nurse kindly. Diana nodded, closing her eyes again, preparing to doze off again.

The door slammed open and she sat up quickly out of reflex, doubling over when the pain hit her. Footsteps flooded the room as she tried to compose herself, eyes glazing over from the pain as she slowly sat up.

"Seriously, Donny, we need to keep a low profile here-"

"-Couldn't you have waited?"

"Di!"

Large hands helped her sit back up and she blinked a few times in order to for Donny's face to come into focus. Her breaths were coming out bin sharp bursts, stinging.

"Donny?" she whispered. A smile broke across his face as one hand cupped the side of her face, cradling. His thumb brushed against her cheek, catching a stray tear. Strange, she didn't know that she was even crying.

"Right here, sweetheart," he managed. He stilled as his own face twisted with pain, almost making him double over entirely. His free hand grabbed at his chest, trying to smother the hurt.

"Donny!" she hiccuped. "You're hurt..." She gently reached out to touch his face, but the other Basterds had pulled him back to his feet, heading for the doorway. Wicki dashed forward, took her hand in his, nodded once and ran out again with the others. Before she had the chance to properly look at the crumpled note he had shoved into her hand, the door creaked open again and she quickly laid back down (despite the obvious sting), closing her eyes. She hoped to pass for sleeping. Pretending to be asleep was never her best acting skill. Her mother always caught her when she pretended, when in reality she was staying up past curfew reading.

_"I'm sorry, sir, but Private Anshelm needs to rest. She's been terribly injured_!" defended the nurse, Diana recognized. She could hear the sound of thick military boots and a large exhale of air as the person huffed. Curiousity pulled at her but she remained still.

"_As soon as she's awake we're talking to her_," instructed the person. His voice chilled her so bad she almost opened her eyes in surprise.

"_Yes, Colonel Landa_."

* * *

**Review! Yes it's short and whatnot, but I'm tired and it's late, sorry foks.**


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